Knox opened his mouth to explain but closed it when he realized he had no idea what the hell to even say.
“It isn’t that difficult a question,” Diego said. “What didn’t you expect?”
Knox leaned forward to rest his forearms on his thighs. “It’s complicated.”
“There’s a woman involved. Of course it’s complicated.” Diego chuckled. “And since that woman is Rachel and a werewolf, it’s also confusing.”
Knox snorted. “I’m not exactly sure what this thing between me and Rachel is or where it’s going,” he admitted. “All I know is that, when I’m with her, I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my life. I know it sounds cliché, but being with her simply feels right.”
Diego finally turned and regarded him thoughtfully, though in some ways he also seemed almost deflated. “It’s not so crazy really.”
“No?”
“I’m going to ask you a simple question and I want you to answer it without thinking. Just go with your instincts.”
Where the hell was Diego headed with this? “Go ahead.”
“If Rachel comes out of her session with Dr. Delacroix and says she needs to move to the Amazon rainforest and live in a grass hut to keep her sanity, what would you say?”
“I’d go with her,” Knox said without hesitation, his dislike of rainforests be damned. The thought of Rachel going somewhere without him made his stomach twist itself into knots.
Diego looked both disappointed and resigned at the same time. “Yeah, I thought you might say that. Has Rachel ever mentionedThe Oneto you?”
Knox frowned. “The one what?”
Diego let out a sigh. “It’s complicated, but basically, it’s a theory about werewolves and soul mates and how you know when you find that person.”
“Soul mates?” Knox made a face. “Isn’t that…I don’t know…make-believe?”
The receptionist glanced their way, and Diego flashed her another smile before turning back to him with a scowl. “Make-believe? You mean like werewolves and vampires?”
“Okay, I guess I see your point. So you think Rachel and I are soul mates? How is that even possible? I mean I was a frigging hunter for Pete’s sake.”
Diego’s mouth edged up. “That’s the magic of it all—it pulls two people together against all odds. You’reThe Onefor her and she’sThe Onefor you. Where you both started doesn’t matter. It’s where you end up.”
Knox thought about everything he’d gone through the past year—seeing Lawrence bleed out, leaving the SEALs, falling in with the hunters, locking eyes with Rachel at that wedding reception, getting shot and becoming a werewolf, chasing Rachel all over the place. Now that he thought about it, maybe everything in his life had happened exactly like it was supposed to so he could end up here with Rachel, a woman absolutely perfect for him—a woman who gave him the one thing he’d always seemed to be searching for.
Two chairs over, Diego let out a short laugh and shook his head. “You know, when Rachel showed up and joined the team, I was kind of hoping she’d beThe Onefor me.”
So Knox was right about the jealousy thing Diego had going on. He should have felt the green-eyed monster breathing down his neck, too, but he didn’t. Did beingThe Onemean you never got jealous because you knew no one could ever come between you and your mate?
He sat back in his chair. “Does she know you feel that way about her?”
Diego’s smile was rueful as he shook his head. “No. She’s always thought of me as a friend and I never said anything. The moment I saw you two together yesterday, I knew she and I are meant to be just that—friends. I’m okay with that.”
Knox wasn’t sure if it was that easy, but before he could say anything more, a nasty smell hit his nose, almost making him gag. He thought for a moment it was his imagination, but then Diego sat up straight, his eyes locking on the door to Delacroix’s office.
“What the hell?”
He and Diego were already on their feet when a blood-curdling scream from the doctor’s office tore through the air and right through Knox’s soul. He charged for the door, his fangs and claws extending whether it was a good idea or not. Diego was on his heels, a growl rumbling through the man’s chest.
Knox shoved his shoulder against the door, telling himself to be ready for anything, but what he saw on the far side of the office froze him solid because it didn’t seem real.
Or possible.
Hadley Delacroix was gone—though heaven knew where she went, since the door he’d busted in was the only way in or out—and now a clown wearing white face paint, a garish, red smile, and frizzed-out, fiery-orange hair was in the room with Rachel. The thing had one hand wrapped around her neck and was choking the life out of her as she dangled a foot above the floor. Rachel struggled to free herself, but the clown was too strong.
Knox cursed, forcing his body to move. He was halfway across the room when the reality of what he was seeing finally hit him. It was the clown from Rachel’s nightmares and it was trying to kill her.
